The Mother’s Tragedy

THE FATAL FORCE — 49 Even as the powers of ill, Broken by the wanded will, Shriek about the holy place, vain and vague and terrible. Even as the lords of hell, Chained in fires before the spell, Strain upon the sightless steel, break not fetters nor compel. So be distant, O profane! Children of the hurricane ! Lest the sword of fire destroy, lest the ways of death be plain! So depart, and so be wise, Lest your perishable eyes Look upon the formless fire, see the maiden sacrifice ! So depart, and secret flame Burn upon the stone of shame, That the holy ones may hear music of the sleepless Name! Now the sacred and obscene Kiss, the pure and the unclean Mingle in the incense steaming up before the goddess queen. Holy, holy, holy spouse Of the sun-engirdled house, With the secret symbol burning on thy multiscient brows! D